


Comfort and Distraction

by stmurr



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hand Kink, M/M, Thumb-sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stmurr/pseuds/stmurr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek scowled and opened his eyes. Stiles was laying on his side, thumb stuck in his mouth, suckling quietly, with his fingers curled over his nose.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>I'm surrounded by children.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort and Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> One day I asked, "Hey, where's Stiles sucking his thumb?" (I mean, Stiles + oral fixation = the best thing ever.) After frantic searching, I couldn't find an already written story. That was a sad day. So, MssDare, in her infinite wisdom (or sadism), told me to write it.
> 
> This is the result. I'm sorry.
> 
> The biggest thanks ever to MssDare for pre-reading, Donnersun for the beta and paleisnewblack for general awesomeness. Any and all remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> I also need to thank im_not_a_lizard, Fr333bird, ememmyem, sabriel017, sapphirescribe, beckybrit1 and FandomHopper for the encouragement. Thank you, ladies.
> 
> All recognizable characters and plotlines belong to MTV, Teen Wolf and Jeff Davis. (Also, ~~George Lucas~~ Disney.)
> 
> ps- MssDare has a thumb sucking Merlin fic. I'll just leave this here. The Ring http://archiveofourown.org/works/460583

Derek rolled on his side and hissed when his hip dug into the floor, the thin carpet not providing any cushion. Since he couldn't go home thanks to Idiot One and Idiot Two accusing him of murder, the hard floor was better than sleeping in the woods. Stiles had been _kind_ enough to offer his room as a safe haven while his father lead the manhunt but, after three days of ducking in the closet or hiding behind the bed, Derek was ready to get back to his own space. 

The remains of his childhood home weren’t much but it beat teenager stench.

Not for the first time, Derek wished he'd traveled back to Beacon Hills with Laura instead of wrapping up their lives in New York and following behind a couple of weeks later. He could have been there, should have been there, covering her flank as he had the last six years. If he'd gone with her, she'd still be alive, he’d still have his Alpha, and he wouldn't be subjected to eau du Stiles. That was in the past now. _If wishes were horses, beggars would ride._ He snorted quietly then flopped over onto his back. His mother had platitudes for every situation.

"Mmm. Staaaahp."

Derek stilled. 

"Staaahp it. S'mine"

"What the hell are you talking about, Stiles?" Derek sat up and groaned when his back popped.

"S'my Han, Jax. Givit back."

What. The. Fuck. Derek knew Stiles was sleeping, his even breaths and calmer-than-normal heartbeat proved that. He looked over at the bed to check and saw Stiles' closed eyes and relaxed face.

He talks in his sleep. 

Peachy.

Stiles squirmed in the bed, grumbling about broken dolls and meanies, and the sheet fell across his face. With one last _You're a stupid face, Jax_ he seemed to settle in once more.

Derek had just lay back on the floor, hoping for at least a few hours of sleep when Stiles whined again.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek whipped his head to the side and saw the problem. Each time Stiles took a breath, the sheet across his face tickled his nose.

"Staaahp," Stiles whined. Just as Derek reached out to pull the sheet down, Stiles’ flailing hand dislodged the sheet and landed on the pillow next to his face.

Derek stayed sitting for a few more minutes, just to make sure the floor show was over, before settling in, hopefully for the last time that night. He'd just closed his eyes when he heard a soft sucking.

He scowled and opened his eyes. Stiles was laying on his side, thumb stuck in his mouth, suckling quietly, with his fingers curled over his nose.

_I'm surrounded by children._

Derek shifted so his back faced the bed and closed his eyes. Before long, the rhythmic slurp-swallow-breathe lulled him to a peaceful sleep.

***

"I can't find anything, Derek. I've looked through property records, tax records, and even the utility records. Nobody’s really moved to Beacon Hills since the Argents. Wherever the alpha pack is staying, they're either squatting –which, hello? Werewolves– or they're not in this county."

"There has to be something, Stiles. They have to be in the county, if not the city itself. What are you missing?" Derek was frustrated. No, Derek was _beyond_ frustrated. Life had been one shit storm after another since Laura decided to leave New York. Peter. Kate. The kanima. Gerard. Now, a pack of alphas, hovering just on the edge of his territory, waiting. Every once in a while they’d breach the territory line with almost surgical precision before scurrying back to their den, leaving traps and mayhem in their wake. 

While the alphas themselves didn’t kill any humans, their traps were indiscriminate and had already caused three deaths. According to Chris the hunters were, unfortunately, beginning to take notice. If the body count rose too much higher, Beacon Hills would be overrun.

If they could just find where the alphas were hiding, they could take the fight to them rather than running themselves to the breaking point trying to protect their borders.

"I'm looking! I'm looking everywhere I know to look!" Stiles flung the mouse in frustration. "I can't do this with you hovering over my shoulder like some kind of...wolfy gargoyle. Just...go sit over there," he said, pointing to the only other chair in the room. "I even got you a new book."

Derek rolled his eyes and stalked over to the chair on the other side of the room and picked up the book. "You got me a thesaurus?"

Stiles gave him a cheeky grin. "I figured you'd finished the dictionary and thought you could use some new material."

"You're all heart, Stiles." He flipped the thesaurus open and said, "Huh, would you look at that. 'Annoy: abrade, agitate, bedevil, beleaguer, exasperate, harass, irk, madden, needle, perturb, pester, plague, provoke, Stiles.'" Derek grinned. "It even has your picture."

"Laugh it up, Fuzzball." Stiles had already turned back to his computer trying to do...whatever he did... Derek wasn't technologically illiterate, but the things Stiles could do made his head spin.

He sighed and settled in for the long haul. No matter how good Stiles was at researching, it would still take a while.

At some point in the last six months, Stiles had gone from a pain in the ass nuisance who’d accused him of murdering his own sister, to a...friend? Maybe? He’s not even sure how it happened but now, Derek was more comfortable lazing in Stiles’ room than he was anywhere else.

Derek glanced up at Stiles' annoyed huff, catching him gnawing on his thumbnail while scrolling through different websites with his other hand and muttering under his breath. "Where the hell are you?"

Derek snorted and went back to his book. _'Approbation: approval, approvement, sanction, advocacy, nod of approbation, esteem, estimation.'_ When he looked up again, Stiles wasn't chewing on his thumb anymore.

He was sucking it.

Derek stared.

Derek could see Stiles’ tongue moving, stroking his thumb, through his hollowed cheek. Every so often, Stiles let out a soft, instinctive grunt. His lips were swollen and red and wet. 

It was obscene.

And Stiles had no idea he was doing it.

Grappling for a distraction, Derek turned back to his book. _'Arouse: excite, entice, electrify, enliven, inflame, rouse, stimulate.'_ Derek slammed the book closed. "Call me when you find something. I've gotta- "

And he was out the window and gone.

***

"When did Allison say they'd be back?" Stiles asked from his spot on the floor in front of the couch. "Not that I'm worried but. Still, it's hunters, ya know?"

Derek grunted and covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "It's too early for them to be back. The meet was over two hours away and she hasn't even called to let me know they're on their way."

Derek could feel Stiles' eyes on him but didn't move his arm to check.

"It's like you're a robot," Stiles said in awe. "Allison. Sweet, innocent, Allison is meeting with some kind of Mega Hunter Council of Death and you're trying to take a nap. Either you have no human emotions or you're, like, the Zen master."

"Stiles."

"What?"

"You need to calm down. Allison will let us know what happens."

"Psshh, yeah. If she can." He grumbled before quieting. "But-"

"Stiles!"

"I can't help it! This is Allison! I know she and Scott are off-again in their weird co-dependent teenaged angst train, but she's, like, his everything. And! She's a nice person. You know, when she's not trying to kill everybody I lo - know." Derek peeked out from under his arm to see Stiles blush and sighed heavily.

"I know you're worried. Hell, I'm worried too, but this is something Allison and Chris had to do alone. And really, the only reason Chris is even there is because Allison is so young. The sons are the soldiers, the daughters are the leaders, right?" Derek waited for Stiles' reluctant nod. "As strange as it sounds to you, Allison. Sweet, innocent Allison is the only person who could even try to convince the North American Council of Hunters," Derek paused to give Stiles a pointed look, "not to send another team to Beacon Hills."

That was the heart of the problem. It's not that Allison was possibly in danger – although, that's really all Scott cared about – but that Allison changed her mind about Derek and the Hale pack depending on which way the wind blew. One day, she was happily ensconced in all things Scott, and the next, every werewolf on the planet was on her shit list, _including_ Scott.

He never thought he'd say it but Chris turned out to be the easiest Argent to handle. Or at least the most honorable and sane.

As long as the Council listened to Chris, even though his daughter was technically the leader of the Argent Hunters, the Argents would stay in Beacon Hills to police the werewolf population. If they didn't, his pack had to be prepared for anything.

So, yeah. Derek was nervous.

He was just quieter about it than Stiles.

"But, what if she–"

"Stiles, stop. It is what it is and if she can't convince them then we'll have to be prepared for whatever happens. Until then, you need to relax." Derek sprawled out on the couch again. 

Stiles released a shaky breath. "Relax, yeah. Ok. I mean, it's not like a swarm of trigger happy hunters are gonna descend on my hometown looking to kill my friends. Sure. This is me, toooootally relaxed."

Derek rolled over on his side and cupped the back of Stiles' head. "Just. Try."

Stiles glanced at him from the corner of his eye and grinned. "Do or do not, there is no try."

Derek snorted and gently shoved his head before covering his eyes once again. "Put on a movie, Yoda. Nothing too thought provoking. I think the hamster in your brain is tired."

He heard Stiles moving around looking at the movies. "Hamster, my ass. My brain is at least a cheetah. Not that I have an animal brain but – Hey! When did you get _Aliens vs. Predators_! Dude! This is the best Alien-slash-Predator movie ever!"

Stiles set up the movie and sat back in his pillow-blanket-fort-nest in front of Derek's couch, eyes already glued on the screen.

Derek, having seen the movie almost as many times as Stiles, let the opening ice exploration scene lull him into a light doze.

Sometime later, a massive explosion jerked him out of sleep. His first instinct was to protect his pack but before he was fully conscious, his nose told him he and Stiles were still alone. Now he was awake and too wired to try sleeping again. He took a deep breath and glanced around his living room, just as a precaution, to confirm what his nose had already told him.

When he glanced over at Stiles, he froze.

Stiles was wrapped in his blankets, cuddled against the couch, staring at the movie with his thumb. In. His. Mouth.

Holy God. From that angle, Derek could see everything. He could see Stiles' long fingers curled over his nose. He could see Stiles' tongue peek out from between his swollen lips every few seconds. He could see Stiles' throat moving up and down, swallowing all the excess spit from sucking his thumb. He could see everything and he was enthralled.

Stiles laughed at something on the movie. Or he tried to but his thumb was in the way. Shame and embarrassment flooded Derek's nose as Stiles ripped his hand away from his mouth, going as far as to sit on it, trying to pretend it never happened.

Out of the corner of his eye Derek could see Stiles look over at him, as if to gauge whether or not he'd seen Stiles sucking his thumb but Derek kept his eyes resolutely on the television. The stench of shame only grew stronger and Stiles started moving like he was about to leave so Derek did the only thing he could think of.

He stroked the side of Stiles' neck, and his thumb brushed over Stiles’ flushed cheek. He was content to sit like that, just offering a small comfort but his hand had a mind of its own and began stroking the front of Stiles' neck, thumb rubbing his red, spit-slicked lips.

Stiles sat, completely frozen, staring blindly at the movie, until Derek's thumb pushed passed his lips to rest on his tongue. Stiles startled like a deer but after a quick peek at Derek's profile, he started to tentatively, hesitantly, suckle.

Derek had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning. It took every ounce of his not-inconsiderable self-control to lay quietly while Stiles' tongue stroked and massaged his thumb. His fingers rested against Stiles' neck and the palm of his hand curled around his chin, feeling each subtle movement of his jaw.

Derek was lost in the scorching heat, in the absolute vacuum pressure, in the way Stiles' tongue teased and curled. He couldn't help picturing those lips, those fucking red lips, wrapped around his cock; that tongue running along the vein underneath, then teasing the head. He pictured Stiles straddling him, sucking him down, down, down, trying to swallow him whole. He pictured everything.

Somewhere in his hazy mind, he knew that wasn't what this was about. This was supposed to be about comfort, about showing Stiles he didn't have to hide or be ashamed of his quirks. With a great deal of effort, he stopped focusing on how Stiles' mouth made him feel and started focusing on Stiles.

Slowly, the shame and embarrassment was replaced by the sweeter scent of contentment and an almost spicy scent Derek usually associated with lust. Just as Stiles was beginning to relax and settle back against the couch, Derek's phone rang.

Chris.

The meeting didn't go as planned, then.

***

After months of fear and weeks of negotiation, the Hale pack, with the help of Chris Argent, finally came to an agreement with the North American Council of Hunters.

With Kate and Gerard abandoning their Code and Victoria's suicide, the Argent family's reputation had taken a beating. The Council originally used Allison's inexperience against her and sent an older, larger group of Hunters to control the werewolves in Beacon Hills while she was made to stay for more training. Chris, having already established a base of operations in Beacon Hills, was able to return but his hands were tied. 

The new Hunters didn't see a peaceful, quiet pack. They looked at the deaths, starting with Peter, then the kanima and finally the alpha pack. In a little more than a year, the quiet little town of Beacon Hills had become a slaughterhouse.

It didn't matter that Peter was avenging his family's death and was ultimately killed. It didn't matter that Jackson had no memory of being a kanima and had been at the mercy of two separate psychotic masters, one of whom was one of their own Hunters. It didn't matter that the alpha pack had been decimated and the remaining members run out of town. All that mattered was the body count.

And if those bodies hadn't been killed by Derek's pack, well, that didn't matter either.

The pack had been running for months, trying not to engage or retaliate, just to survive. There were traps in the woods. Their cars were rigged with the same aerosol wolfsbane Victoria used on Scott. Pack members were followed and harassed. It had gotten so bad at one point that Derek actually put moving the pack from Beacon Hills to a vote. No one voted in favor of leaving but the point is, he asked.

But when the hunters went after the humans, the pack stopped running.

Lydia was run off the road. She wasn't driving fast and she wasn't hit hard but her car was knocked into a ditch. She called the police to report the hit and run and escaped with a nasty bruise from her seatbelt and brush burns from the airbag. She was shaken but couldn't tell if the unfamiliar car was driven by the new Hunters or if the accident had really been an accident.

They got Danny coming home from a date. Since he was on the fringes of the pack, he knew about the Hunters but no one, including Danny himself, really thought he'd be in any danger. He'd met the guy at the grocery store of all places, and they struck up a conversation over bok choy. By the time they'd made it to dairy, Greg asked him to dinner. 

Dinner had gone well and Danny felt his love life was finally picking up (dating wasn't easy when your best friend turned into a raging douchemonster with the guys you dated. It got even harder once Jax was turned into a werewolf) until he made it three blocks from the restaurant and ran into a group of Hunters, with Greg standing at the front.

Danny ended up in the hospital.

The police said it was a hate crime.

The pack said it was war.

By the time Stiles was taken, the pack was slavering mad.

(He said later that his abduction was clichéd and so overdone it was laughable, having already been abducted by Peter then Gerard, then the alpha pack.) 

It was staged as a home invasion, set in the fifteen minutes between Isaac leaving and the Sheriff getting home and based on the evidence, Stiles put up a hell of a fight. The kitchen was completely trashed, chopped vegetables and thawed chicken scattered across the counter and floor. One of the kitchen chairs was smashed and the table was split down the middle. There were blood spatters on the floor and walls but a quick sniff told Derek it belonged to Stiles' attackers. Mostly.

The pack, and even Chris, was out for blood.

They'd followed proper protocol with Chris and Alan acting as intermediaries between the pack and the Council. They'd been doing everything to avoid the Hunters and show they were respectful, law abiding citizens. They'd backed down from confrontations and chose to walk away when threatened.

The Hale pack was playing by the rules the Council set but the Hunters disregarded their own Code. 

Oddly enough, it was the Sheriff who demanded they follow proper protocol. While he and the Department investigated the kidnapping, Derek, Chris and Alan went to the Council headquarters in Oregon armed with evidence of the Hunters' abuse of power. 

Their stance was clear: release Stiles and leave the Hunters to face all charges or face all-out war. The pack may have been young but the Hale name still carried weight in the werewolf community, allied packs would not be hard to find.

After a week of stalling, the Council made an anonymous call to the Sheriff's department and Stiles was found, bloodied and bruised, chained in a storeroom of an abandoned building.

Once Stiles was released from the hospital, Derek took to sitting on his roof at night to keep watch. 

Ten days after Stiles was found, Derek got to his house and found Stiles' window open and Stiles laying in bed, reading a book and sucking his thumb.

Derek's thumb tingled with the memory of those lips wrapped around him and he couldn't stop himself from slipping in the room and moving quietly to sit on the edge of Stiles' bed.

"I don't. I never know." Stiles huffed in frustration as he sat up and wrapped his arms around his bent knees. "I don't realize I'm doing it," he said, waving his spit-slick thumb to emphasize his point. "Sometimes. Sometimes, I just need to. It's weird. Mom told me I never sucked my thumb, never even took a pacifier, until I got to elementary school."

"It's not wei– Well, maybe it's a little weird but it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Stiles snorted. "You have such a way with words. Thanks for that."

Derek cupped the back of Stiles' head and leaned forward to rest his forehead on his. "You have no idea what seeing you do that does to me."

Stiles inhaled sharply and jerked forward to press his lips on Derek's. 

It was fleeting, barely a kiss but it opened the floodgates. In the blink of an eye, Derek had Stiles pinned diagonally across the bed. One hand gripped the front of Stiles' shirt, the other cradled the back of his neck, thumb tracing the edge of his lips.

He nosed Stiles' cheek then, gently, leaned to press his lips to his, again and again and again. He felt Stiles rest his hands tentatively on his shoulders and he whimpered - _whimpered_ \- when he felt them slide down his back at the same time Stiles licked his bottom lip. Derek nipped Stiles’ tongue and followed it back into Stiles' mouth.

Derek started mapping the inside of Stiles' mouth, licking his teeth and tongue. Tasting while Stiles laid passively, stroking Derek's back and shoulders. He moved his lips, his tongue, to Stiles' jaw, nibbling softly, then down his neck, chasing his jugular with his tongue.

Stiles gripped his shoulders and moaned quietly; tilting his head back to expose his neck fully and that brought Derek back to himself. He raised his head, kissed his lips chastely and pulled back to look in Stiles' heavy lidded eyes.

"What is it you want?" Derek didn't recognize his own voice.

Stiles blinked. "...what?"

Derek nuzzled behind his ear and whispered, "What do you want?"

"You." The word was ripped out of his mouth, low and guttural and perfect.

Derek kissed him, long and filthy and deep, tongue chasing the rest of his words back into his mouth. They lay there, kissing, for several long minutes when Stiles stilled. Just as Derek started to pull away, he felt the hesitant suction. 

On his tongue.

It wasn’t the same, of course, his tongue didn’t reach as far into Stiles’ mouth as his thumb, but the intent was there.

Derek froze, eyes wide. Every tentative suckle, every sound - every wet, filthy grunt - went straight to his cock. As Stiles’ confidence grew and the suction tighter, harder, wetter, Derek’s control snapped. He clawed - with human nails, thank God - at Stiles’ thigh, rolling them on their sides as he humped against his hip.

When Stiles’ hand slid from his back, Derek growled, shoving his face, his mouth, closer until he felt Stiles’ hand worming between their bodies to cup his dick. Derek lurched back, gasping for breath. His hands scrabbled along Stiles’ waist, catching the bottom of his tee shirt, and ripped it over his head.

Stiles let out a pained grunt when his shirt scraped on his healing bruises and Derek jerked away, horrified that he’d forgotten about the injuries. Stiles followed, catching his mouth even as he tried to put space between them.

“Stiles, wait,” Derek said gruffly while he gently pushed him back.

“S’fine, Derek. S’ok, really,” Stiles slurred, reaching. “Doesn’t hurt, promise. C’mere.”

“I’m not saying we’re gonna stop, Stiles, but. Just wait. Just wait a second.” He carefully pressed Stiles down on the bed and stroked him gently.

Stiles whined impatiently but laid back, moving restlessly while Derek stroked his stomach. 

Stiles’ red lips. His long neck. His sleekly muscular chest. He didn’t know where to start first. Eventually, Derek moved carefully to straddle Stiles’ thighs, the need to feel those lips on his again outweighing any other thought. 

Before he could lean down to catch his lips again, he felt Stiles’ hands tugging on his shirt. “S’not fair. You too, Derek. Off.”

Derek laughed a little but pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. Stiles’ snaked his hands up Derek’s chest, threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled him roughly down to his lips.

Derek moaned quietly but let Stiles take over the kiss. When Stiles ventured his tongue into his mouth he stroked it with his own. When Stiles retreated, Derek nipped and licked his lips before licking down his jaw again.

“So, is this gonna be a thing?” Stiles panted, “Cuz I think I’d really like this to be a thing.” 

Derek nuzzled under his jaw and bit softly. “Shut up, Stiles.”

Stiles made a strangled noise and choked out, “Right. Shutting uhhhhhhhp. Fuuuuuck, do that again.”

Derek hid his smile where Stiles’ neck met his shoulders then bit softly at the sensitive skin again. “Like that?"

“Yes. Jesus, Derek. Yes.” Stiles’ hands grabbed his waist then slid to his hips. “Please. Just, do that. Fuck.” He tried lifting his hips to rub against Derek’s but the angle was wrong. 

“Derek,” he whined, “please!”

Derek reached between them to pop the buttons on Stiles’ jeans but paused before pulling the zip. “Are you sure, Stiles?”

To his relief, Stiles didn’t answer him immediately but appeared to really think about it.

“I don’t,” he stuttered and Derek’s heart sank. 

Stiles heaved a breath and gasped out, “I don’t think I’m ready for you to fuck me. I. I want to feel you though. I want to feel you.”

Derek kissed him desperately and yanked the zip down at the same time. The grunt Stiles made the first time Derek’s hand wrapped around his cock is something he wanted to remember forever.

Stiles squirmed until his pants slid below his hips before Derek got with the program and climbed off him to pull them all the way off. “Jesus, Stiles,” he said quietly, running his hands up Stiles’ legs to where his dick stood, hard and slightly curved, his flushed head dribbling. “Jesusfuck.”

Derek changed his mind. The sound Stiles made the first time he licked his dick was what he wanted to remember forever. 

He took his time, careful to lick every inch, every vein, then carefully nibbled the bottom of the flared head before he wrapped his lips around him and sucked him down. When Derek had taken him as far as he could comfortably go, inspiration struck. He backed off just a tiny bit, flooded his mouth with spit and started to suckle.

Stiles wailed.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Derek. Deeeerrrrreeeeek. I’m. I - I’m gonna come.” Stiles shoved Derek’s shoulders. He didn’t want to move but Stiles was getting frantic. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come. Shit. Shitpleasepleaseplease.”

Derek wrapped his hand around Stiles and, regretfully, pulled off. 

Stiles came.

All over Derek’s face.

Derek shoved his hand against his zipper, pressing it against his cock, trying to hold off his orgasm. He licked Stiles’ warm cum from his lips and couldn't hold back anymore. A shiver tripped down his spine and he came, gasping.

Stiles stared at him, wide-eyed and shivering. “That is the most amazing thing that has ever happened. Ever. In the history of the world.” He realized what he said and blushed. “Erm. Let me - let me go get a, uh, washcloth. For your face.”

Derek snorted, grabbed Stiles’ shirt to wipe his face then manhandled Stiles onto his side and wrapped his body around him.

“I would tell you that was my favorite shirt that you just wiped my cum on but I really don’t fucking care,” Stiles said sleepily. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Don’t you want me to, uh. Help?”

“It’s fine, Stiles.”

“But -”

“Don’t worry about it. I, uh, already...”

Stiles blinked. “That’s...kinda awesome.”

Derek laughed softly and squeezed Stiles closer, more relaxed than he’d been in months. He inhaled deeply, his scent mixed with Stiles’ and sex was seeping into everything in Stiles’ room. Anyone coming in his room would know immediately what happened. Derek smiled. 

“Yes.”

Stiles turned his head and blinked up at Derek. “What?”

“Yes, it’s a thing. I want it to be a thing, too.”

“Oh.” He turned his head and buried his face in the mattress but Derek saw the side of his face pull into a smile. “Sounds good,” he said into the mattress.

Derek rubbed Stiles’ chest idly, lost in thought, when he heard his breathing change. He peeked over Stiles’ shoulder to see his eyes closed, face relaxed and thumb brushing against his lips.

He kissed him right behind his ear, just below his hairline, and whispered, “I love you.”

Stiles hummed contentedly around his thumb.

“I know.”


End file.
